


Unspoken Care

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Aftermath of a Case, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Quotations, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: The most important things between them were never said, but they were understood anyway. They looked out for each other, even in the worst of times.
Kudos: 2





	Unspoken Care

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of CSI: New York.

**Unspoken Care**

He didn't know what to say when he looked up and saw Mac there, in Terrence's living room. Of all the people he would have expected to see in the gangster-turned-CI's apartment, Mac wasn't one of them. Certainly not in his work uniform, badge on his hip with his gun, still wearing his suit and jacket. Not in a neighborhood where the sight of a cop either sent people to the wood-works, or brought out the knives and guns. Not where being a cop, or harboring one, was a good way to get yourself roughed up, or worse, dumped lifeless in a ditch on the other side of town. But Mac was there, watching him with the dark, hooded gaze that meant the other man was controlling his emotions, and holding on tight.

He wasn't surprised for long. It was Mac. Shame at being tracked down replaced the surprise, and a kind of edgy restlessness that bordered on anger. Anger that they'd interfere in his personal life. Anger that he was being caught, and at the feeling that he was about to get chewed out like a teenager caught bar-hopping on a school day. He didn't need it. But Terrence had left them alone, so there was no recourse to 'not wanting to involve a third party', and he didn't know enough about where he was to just leave.

He settled in a chair across from his friend of several years, too embarrassed and angry to look him in the eye. “I don't know what to say. It's just one of those days.”

_I_ _don't_ _want_ _to_ _talk_ _about_ _it._ _I_ _know_ _you_ _can_ _smell_ _the_ _alcohol,_ _and_ _that_ _you_ _can_ _see_ _I'm_ _not_ _moving_ _right._ _I_ _know_ _you_ _know_ _this_ _isn't_ _my_ _kind_ _of_ _neighborhood._ _But_ _I_ _don't_ _want_ _to_ _discuss_ _it._ _Not_ _now._ _Ease_ _up._ _Leave_ _it_ _alone._ _I'll_ _get_ _back_ _to_ _you._

He and Mac had both had 'those days'. The gray, ugly days where talking was an effort, and being civil was like pulling your teeth out by the roots. Those days when talking about anything that wasn't the job was strictly off limits. They'd learned to give each other space and time. A little room to work out the kinks. Mac was better at hiding them. More determined when he tried. With Mac, it was a tightening in the eyes, a clipped way of speaking. A retreat to his office, or home to his guitar. Or a walk to Ground Zero, sometimes with an all-night stay. He was a little more explosive, a little more revealing.

“You can do better.” Just that, and a shake of the head, and he knew he wasn't getting out of it so easily.

_We_ _are_ _going_ _to_ _discuss_ _it._ _Because_ _we_ _have_ _to._ _It_ _isn't_ _just_ _today,_ _and_ _it_ _isn't_ _just_ _one_ _of_ _'those'_ _days._ _We'll_ _discuss_ _it, because_ _I_ _need_ _to_ _know_ _what's_ _going_ _on,_ _and_ _I'm_ _not_ _giving_ _up_ _until_ _I_ _have_ _a_ _real_ _answer._

He didn't want to do better. Didn't want to try and explain the tangle of emotions under the surface. “Fine. It won't happen again.”

_There._ _Sorry_ _I_ _screwed_ _up._ _Promise_ _not_ _to_ _be_ _here_ _next_ _time._ _Are_ _we_ _done_ _yet?_

Even inside his own head, he sounded like an annoyed teenager. A kid getting called on bad grades and wanting nothing more than to get away from it and back to his stereo and his buddies. He didn't really care that Mac was pissed, or that Mac was there. Didn't feel like admitting he'd screwed up, and certainly didn't feel any need to react, to change things. Shit happened. He'd gotten jumped. End of story.

“Damn right. Next time, I'm making it official.”

And Mac sounded like a parent. Threatening. Or an older sibling.

_Next_ _time,_ _I'll_ _ground_ _you._ _Next_ _time,_ _I'll_ _get_ _the_ _department_ _head_ _on_ _your_ _ass,_ _or_ _IAB._ _You'll_ _answer_ _me_ _and_ _shape_ _up,_ _or_ _I'll_ _take_ _it_ _higher._

He didn't need it. How could Mac, or anyone, understand how he felt? What it meant to lose Angell. What it had felt like to shoot that guy in cold blood, where no one could see him. How could Mac possibly understand? What gave him the right to police him, to hunt him out and challenge him over how he chose to cope? What he chose to do to escape his demons.

“Fine. You do what you gotta do.” He rose from the seat, wondering how far he'd have to go to find Terrence. Or maybe he could just duck out the back window.

_We're_ _done_ _here._ _I_ _don't_ _have_ _to_ _explain_ _myself_ _to_ _you._ _I_ _don't_ _want_ _to._ _You_ _don't_ _understand_ _what_ _I'm_ _going_ _through._ _You_ _don't_ _understand_ _what_ _I'm_ _feeling._ _And_ _this_ _crap_ _is_ _none_ _of_ _your_ _business._ _So_ _butt_ _out,_ _okay?_ _Get_ _off_ _my_ _back._ _Go_ _shove_ _your_ _interfering_ _nose_ _somewhere_ _else._ _That's_ _your_ _job,_ _right?_ _Go_ _do_ _it._

But Mac was rising too. And to his shock, more than rising. It was surprise, more than force, that stopped him and rocked him back a step when Mac stiff-armed him, shoving him backward with one hand. He looked up, found true fury in Mac's face, something he rarely saw. Fury, laced with something else, something, perhaps, much more terrible. Then Mac forced it back, controlling it as he controlled all his other emotions and all his actions. But the anger was still there, lacing his words. “Let's be clear. A part of me wants to take this badge off and settle this another way.”

_We're_ _not_ _done._ _I'm_ _not_ _done._ _I_ _know_ _you're_ _not_ _listening._ _I_ _know_ _you're_ _brushing_ _me_ _off._ _I_ _know_ _you_ _think_ _I_ _don't_ _have_ _a_ _right._ _But_ _damn_ _it,_ _I_ _don't_ _care._ _You're_ _gonna_ _talk_ _to_ _me._ _You're_ _gonna_ _listen_ _to_ _me._ _You_ _made_ _this_ _my_ _business,_ _and_ _now,_ _we_ _are_ _going_ _to_ _deal_ _with_ _it._ _Even_ _if_ _I_ _have_ _to_ _pound_ _the_ _answers_ _out_ _of_ _you,_ _and_ _knock_ _your_ _head_ _on_ _the_ _floor_ _until_ _you_ _listen._ _I_ _should_ _already_ _be_ _doing_ _it._ _I_ _almost_ _wish_ _I_ _was._

He didn't like the tone. Nor the implications. Didn't like the challenge, still locked in those hooded eyes. And all of a sudden, Mac was too close. Too close to his secrets, too close to the wounds in his heart. All of a sudden, it wasn't about not caring about what the CSI was doing, or about annoyance at being tracked down like an errant teen. It was too close, and Mac wasn't letting him go like he usually did. There were shadows in Mac's eyes that he didn't want to face or understand. And it was the mix of desperation and anger that spoke. “Get out of my face!”

_Leave_ _me_ _alone!_ _I_ _don't_ _care!_

And Mac broke. It was unexpected, because he'd never seen the other man truly lose control. He didn't have time to react before Mac seized his shirt in a double handful of fabric and shoved him backward into a post, hard enough to wind him. The tightly controlled emotions broke over his face, twisting it with that terrible mix of anger and unidentifiable emotion. His arm, solid and far stronger than he would have thought, pinned him in place.

A silent struggle, and then words snarled out through Mac's clenched teeth. “We're in the middle of a murder investigation, and you go AWOL?!”

_Damn_ _it!_ _I_ _said,_ _we're_ _not_ _done._ _And_ _I'm_ _not_ _letting_ _you_ _off_ _this_ _time._ _You're_ _listening._ _Don't_ _you_ _know_ _what_ _you_ _did?_ _Do_ _you_ _realize_ _the_ _position_ _you're_ _in?_ _Do_ _you?_

His anger shuddered under the assault of emotion, of that tightly controlled strength. He didn't want to think about it, even as his mind began to process what he was seeing and hearing, as the anger began to fade. He only had one more chance to break the hold. “I can handle myself!”

_I'm_ _fine!_ _What_ _more_ _do_ _you_ _want_ _from_ _me?_ _I'm_ _just_ _fine._

“Is that what you call it? Is that what you're doing **here** , in this apartment? Is that why I had to get **this** off Terrence?”

The sight of his own back-up weapon in Mac's hand shocked the last of the anger from his system. So did the realization that he had no clear memory of how it had come to be in Terrence's possession. And only foggy memories of the mugging where Terrence had saved him.

Mac's words rolled over him and he went still, realizing he did recognize, now, the other emotion that twisted Mac's expression. The emotion that had written itself into Mac's face and burned into his words, making them sting like fire. Fear. Mac was afraid. Terribly afraid, more so than he had ever seen the other man, except when Danny had been shot. Or perhaps when the Twin Towers had fallen. And it had nothing to do with Mac's own presence in this place, but with him.

Mac's fear burned away his anger, holding him still, forcing him to listen. Mac's furious tirade rolled over him, and he found himself listening, not just to the words, but the tone, with all the skills he'd honed in years of police work and teaming up with the CSI's. With Mac himself. All the years they'd been friends and colleagues.

_**“** _ _**We're** _ _**in** _ _**the** _ _**middle** _ _**of** _ _**a** _ _**murder** _ _**investigation,** _ _**and** _ _**you** _ _**go** _ _**AWOL?** _ _**”** _

_Where_ _the_ _hell_ _were_ _you?_ _We_ _need_ _you,_ _now,_ _more_ _than_ _ever._ _I_ _needed_ _you._ _And_ _I_ _needed_ _to_ _know_ _you_ _were_ _okay._ _You_ _could_ _have_ _been_ _anywhere,_ _in_ _any_ _condition._ _I_ _didn't_ _know._ _I_ _t_ _cost_ _me_ _resources_ _I_ _don't_ _have_ _to_ _find_ _out._ _And_ _it_ _could_ _have_ _cost_ _you_ _so_ _much_ _more._ _Don't_ _you_ _realize,_ _there_ _are_ _a_ _dozen_ _ways_ _or_ _more_ _we_ _could_ _have_ _lost_ _you,_ _aside_ _from_ _lost_ _contact?_ _And_ _that_ _I_ _know,_ _and_ _am_ _aware_ _of_ _all_ _of_ _them?_ _What_ _if_ _you'd_ _been_ _like_ _Stella,_ _nearly_ _killed_ _in_ _Greece?_ _Or_ _like_ _Aiden?_

He _was_ AWOL. The department had every right to fire him for it. But Mac was here and he knew, without asking, that Mac had covered for him, protected him, and come to his rescue. In more ways than one.

_**“** _ _**Is** _ _**that** _ _**what** _ _**you're** _ _**doing** _ _**here,** _ _**in** _ _**this** _ _**apartment?** _ _**”** _

He knew, somehow, that Mac knew what had happened. Why Terrence had picked him up. And what condition he'd been in. What condition he was in now.

_Do_ _you_ _know_ _where_ _you_ _are?_ _Cops_ _die_ _in_ _this_ _neighborhood._ _You_ _could_ _have_ _died_ _on_ _that_ _train._ _If_ _you_ _can_ _handle_ _yourself,_ _you_ _should_ _be_ _at_ _your_ _job._ _Be_ _working_ _with_ _me,_ _not_ _lying_ _on_ _your_ _CI's_ _couch._ _You_ _should_ _have_ _at_ _least_ _known_ _to_ _come_ _to_ _me._ _Why_ _aren't_ _you_ _at_ _the_ _office?_ _Or,_ _if_ _you_ _couldn't_ _go_ _there,_ _why_ _not_ _at_ _home?_ _Or,_ _if_ _you_ _couldn't_ _stay_ _home,_ _you_ _could_ _have_ _at_ _least_ _gone_ _somewhere_ _safe._ _Even_ _my_ _place._ _Didn't_ _you_ _realize_ _that?_ _I_ _would_ _have_ _helped_ _you,_ _covered_ _for_ _you,_ _if_ _it_ _was_ _so_ _bad._

_**“** _ _**Is** _ _**that** _ _**why** _ _**I** _ _**had** _ _**to** _ _**get** _ _**this** _ _**off** _ _**Terrence?** _ _**”** _

_You're_ _never_ _without_ _your_ _back-up._ _How_ _can_ _you_ _say_ _your_ _handling_ _yourself,_ _when_ _you_ _can't_ _even_ _keep_ _hold_ _of_ _your_ _weapon?_ _Do_ _you_ _know_ _what_ _it_ _did_ _to_ _me,_ _when_ _he_ _gave_ _me_ _your_ _gun?_ _Do_ _you_ _know_ _how_ _close_ _you_ _came_ _to_ _dying?_ _How_ _could_ _you_ _have_ _let_ _it_ _get_ _this_ _far?_ _What_ _would_ _you_ _have_ _done,_ _if_ _he_ _hadn't_ _picked_ _up_ _your_ _gun?_ _If_ _you_ _hadn't_ _been_ _so_ _lucky?_ _Did_ _you_ _think_ _what_ _I_ _would_ _have_ _done,_ _had_ _to_ _do,_ _if_ _I'd_ _been_ _picking_ _your_ _gun_ _up_ _as_ _evidence_ _in_ _your_ _murder?_

_**“** _ _**Is** _ _**that** _ _**why** _ _**I** _ _**had** _ _**to** _ _**have** _ _**Stella** _ _**triangulate** _ _**your** _ _**phone?** _ _**”** _

_We_ _couldn't_ _find_ _you._ _You_ _didn't_ _even_ _call_ _to_ _let_ _us_ _know_ _you_ _were_ _okay._ _There's_ _a_ _killer_ _on_ _the_ _loose,_ _and_ _we_ _didn't_ _know_ _where_ _you_ _were._ _For_ _all_ _we_ _knew,_ _you_ _were_ _already_ _in_ _some_ _maniac's_ _hands._ _Or_ _dead_ _in_ _the_ _street._ _It_ _doesn't_ _matter_ _if_ _you'd_ _lied_ _to_ _me._ _You_ _should_ _have_ _at_ _least_ _answered_ _when_ _I_ _called,_ _so_ _I'd_ _know_ _you_ _were_ _safe._ _Even_ _if_ _you_ _lied._ _I_ _shouldn't_ _have_ _had_ _to_ _find_ _you_ _with_ _a_ _satellite,_ _and_ _chase_ _you_ _into_ _the_ _ghetto_ _to_ _make_ _sure_ _you_ _were_ _somewhere_ _safe,_ _and_ _out_ _of_ _harms_ _way._

_**“** _ _**Is** _ _**that** _ _**why** _ _**I** _ _**had** _ _**to** _ _**have** _ _**Danny** _ _**check** _ _**the** _ _**ER's,** _ _**to** _ _**see** _ _**if** _ _**you'd** _ _**turned** _ _**up** _ _**dead?** _ _**”** _

_It's_ _so_ _easy_ _to_ _go_ _from_ _cop_ _to_ _victim._ _From_ _investigator_ _to_ _body._ _You_ _came_ _so_ _close._ _Until_ _I_ _found_ _you,_ _I_ _didn't_ _know_ _what_ _happened._ _I_ _didn't_ _know,_ _damn_ _it._ _You_ _could_ _have_ _been_ _lying_ _in_ _your_ _own_ _blood,_ _like_ _Angell._ _You_ _could_ _have_ _been_ _a_ _body_ _in_ _a_ _back_ _alley,_ _like_ _Aiden._ _Or_ _a_ _James_ _Doe,_ _like_ _dozens_ _we_ _see_ _come_ _through_ _our_ _lab_ _every_ _single_ _day._ _You_ _almost_ _were._ _You_ _almost_ _died._ _If_ _Terrence_ _hadn't_ _saved_ _you,_ _Danny_ _would_ _have_ _found_ _you_ _before_ _I_ _did._ _And_ _I'd_ _be_ _pulling_ _back_ _a_ _sheet_ _to_ _identify_ _you,_ _or_ _escorting_ _your_ _sister_ _and_ _father_ _to_ _do_ _that_ _task._ _Did_ _you_ _think_ _of_ _that,_ _when_ _you_ _were_ _'handling'_ _yourself?_

Mac let him go, and the silence fell between them. A silence filled with his own shock at the depth of Mac's fear, at the concern and care for him that had driven the CSI all the way here, that had broken those steel-strong walls he kept around his emotions, and burned between them like white hot fire. The fear, bordering on anguish, that sent a man so in control over the edge.

He staggered to the chair, looked up at the strong, solid form, still clad in his working business suit. Looked at the badge gleaming on Mac's hip, a badge that was more target than shield in this part of town. And he saw, abruptly, what Mac had done for him, and why.

He'd protected him, searched for him, come to find him. The middle of a murder investigation, and Mac had walked away from his duty, simply out of concern and care for him. For their friendship, and the deep, protective love he knew the other man held for all those who were a part of his team. And even angry, the man still cared. Cared enough to be angry, and to let him see it.

For him, the other man had come here. His clothing, his badge, his mannerisms, they screamed cop. Even if he hadn't been the most celebrated CSI in New York City, his face periodically plastered all over every newspaper and tabloid. He was a city legend, with a target a mile wide on his shoulders. And yet, he'd knowingly walked into a neighborhood where all of that was against him. Where the wrong eyes meeting his was a death sentence for him. But he had come, for all the reasons that hung unspoken in the air between them.

The last anger and defensiveness melted into shame, and shock, and contrition. Almost pain, at the realization of the danger he had put his friend in. And what he had done to the man who had his back, still, after everything.

He watched Mac breathe, then raise a hand to rub his face, physically wiping away the strain as he pulled all the simmering emotion back into himself, locked it down, controlling it once more. When he spoke, his voice was calm, only the hot, storm-tossed eyes revealing the turmoil that had so nearly consumed him moments before. “You can keep telling people that you're fine. But that won't work.”

_You_ _can't_ _run_ _forever._ _Someday,_ _it'll_ _catch_ _up_ _to_ _you._ _Someday,_ _you'll_ _have_ _to_ _tell_ _someone_ _what's_ _going_ _on._ _It_ _can_ _be_ _me,_ _or_ _whoever_ _you_ _like,_ _but_ _you_ _can't_ _keep_ _going_ _like_ _this._ _Hide_ _in_ _the_ _bottle,_ _run_ _to_ _hell_ _and_ _back,_ _it_ _won't_ _matter._ _There_ _will_ _still_ _be_ _a_ _reckoning._ _And_ _you'll_ _have_ _to_ _face_ _whatever_ _it_ _is_ _that's_ _made_ _you_ _do_ _this._

There was no force now, only anger, and hurt, and concern. And it was the hurt and concern that pushed his anger away, pushed away his fear and his reluctance, and let the words leave him.

“It's been eatin' at me Mac.” He swallowed, looking away, then back. “When Angell was killed, all I wanted to do...was make things right.”

_It's_ _tearing_ _me_ _apart._ _Guilt._ _Hurt._ _Grief._ _Everything._ _But...guilt_ _now._ _That_ _I_ _couldn't_ _save_ _her,_ _that_ _I_ _did_ _what_ _I_ _did_ _out_ _of_ _vengeance._ _But...also_ _what_ _I've_ _done_ _to_ _you._ _You_ _were_ _mourning_ _too._ _You_ _cared._ _I_ _heard_ _it_ _in_ _your_ _voice._ _And_ _I...I'm_ _here,_ _and_ _you're_ _here,_ _because_ _I_ _forced_ _you_ _to_ _be._ _I_ _put_ _that_ _look_ _in_ _your_ _eyes._ _That_ _hurt,_ _angry,_ _concerned_ _look._ _That_ _haunted_ _look_ _that's_ _making_ _you_ _clench_ _your_ _teeth._ _It's_ _tearing_ _me_ _apart,_ _what_ _I've_ _done._ _What_ _I_ _haven't_ _told_ _you._ _What_ _I_ _should_ _have._

“We did that. Justice was served, because we did our jobs.”

_I_ _know._ _I_ _felt_ _it._ _But_ _we_ _did_ _what_ _we_ _had_ _to_ _do._ _We_ _got_ _the_ _bad_ _guys._ _I_ _just_ _don't_ _know_ _what_ _you_ _did,_ _to_ _make_ _you_ _like_ _this._ _But_ _this_ _won't_ _help._ _You_ _get_ _through_ _it_ _by_ _doing_ _what_ _you_ _need_ _to,_ _not_ _like_ _this._

And finally, finally, he lost himself in the unspoken words, and cried out the confession of the event that had haunted his nightmares.

“You weren't there! You weren't there with me and Simon Kaine. I was with that bastard. I stood over him! And I looked him in the eyes and I...!”

“What happened is between you and your God.” Harsh words, cutting him off.

He felt shock again. So close to a full confession and Mac blocked him again. Cut him off.

_I_ _thought_ _you_ _wanted_ _to_ _know._ _Wasn't_ _this_ _all_ _about_ _getting_ _me_ _to_ _confess?_ _I_ _thought_ _you_ _needed_ _to_ _know_ _what_ _was_ _going_ _on._ _That_ _you_ _were_ _worried_ _about_ _me._

“I'm not your priest.” Mac watched him with those dark concerned eyes, and the part of him that wasn't shaking inside from the explosive emotion heard him, and understood.

_I_ _do._ _I_ _want_ _to_ _know_ _what's_ _wrong._ _I_ _want_ _to_ _know_ _you're_ _facing_ _whatever_ _happened._ _I_ _want_ _to_ _know_ _you'll_ _deal_ _with_ _it._ _I_ _don't_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _tell_ _me_ _something_ _I_ _may_ _have_ _to_ _act_ _on._ _I'm_ _still_ _wearing_ _a_ _badge._ _It's_ _my_ _duty_ _to_ _report_ _it_ _if_ _you_ _did_ _something_ _wrong._ _Something_ _out-of-line_ _or_ _criminal._ _I_ _can't...I_ _won't_ _violate_ _that._ _But_ _I_ _have_ _to_ _have_ _evidence,_ _or_ _a_ _confession,_ _first._ _I'm_ _not_ _going_ _to_ _let_ _you_ _tell_ _me_ _something_ _that_ _may_ _destroy_ _you._ _Tell_ _it_ _to_ _someone_ _who_ _can_ _keep_ _it_ _confidential._ _Someone_ _who_ _won't_ _report_ _it._ _Someone_ _who_ _can_ _protect_ _your_ _secret._ _You_ _know_ _I_ _can't._ _I_ _just_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _face_ _this._

They watched each other for a long moment, his words and Mac's hanging in the air. Then the CSI pulled back. “What I do need to know, is whether I can count on you.”

_Are_ _you_ _going_ _to_ _face_ _this,_ _or_ _run?_ _When_ _I_ _turn_ _around,_ _will_ _you_ _have_ _my_ _back,_ _or_ _will_ _I_ _be_ _catching_ _you_ _as_ _you_ _continue_ _to_ _fall?_ _I_ _don't_ _know,_ _and_ _I_ _need_ _to._ _Because_ _there's_ _only_ _so_ _much_ _I_ _can_ _do._ _And_ _we_ _can't_ _hope_ _to_ always _get_ _as_ _lucky_ _as_ _we_ _did_ _this_ _time._ _Next_ _time...it_ _may_ _not_ _end_ _like_ _this._

He couldn't answer, knew Mac didn't expect didn't expect him to. He waited, unable to look up, unable to watch as Mac left, quietly exiting the door of Terrence's apartment. He wanted to watch Mac go, to know he was safely out, but he couldn't move. His head and his heart were too full.

He remembered the last time he'd been seriously injured. On the job, when they'd both been caught in an explosion. He didn't remember much of it, noise and heat and stunning pain. And waking up in the hospital about a few days later, with an aching abdomen, and Mac seated in a chair by his side. His first solid memory after the explosion was that awakening, and seeing Mac, dozing in the chair beside him with a day's worth of stubble, a rumpled suit, and a bandage snaking from beneath his shirt, up the side of his throat.

He'd tried to remember more, later. But everything was blank, save for one hazy memory that occasionally inserted itself into his mind. The memory of a voice, speaking to him. “If you can hear me squeeze my hand. Don, I need you to squeeze my hand. I'm right here.”

A strong voice, so commanding and yet, those words had been full of so much pleading. He'd tried to do as he was asked, even in the darkness of dreams, because that voice should not have sounded like that. Not begging, not pleading. That voice shouldn't have held so much pain.

Stella had told him later. Mac had taken a glancing blow to the neck from debris. But it had also been Mac who'd preformed an emergency procedure to keep him from bleeding out before the rescue teams found him. Mac who'd escorted his body to the ambulance, even staggering as he was, with his throat still bleeding. The CSI hadn't even considered getting medical attention until his body had been loaded into the ambulance and rushed away.

It had been Mac who'd stayed by his side almost constantly in the hospital, after they'd solved the case. And it had been Mac, whispering those words, begging him to show some sign of life.

He sat, remembering it and thinking of what Mac would have done, if he had died on the train. If Terrence hadn't come, and the mugger with the knife had finished what they'd started.

He knew what the CSI lead would have done. He would have come. He would have escorted the body back to Sid himself, called his sister to let her know, and led her in so she could make a formal ID. Would have called his father, to tell him as well. And then, he would have gone on to find the murderers, the men who had attacked him. Whether it took him days, or years, he would have looked until he had answers.

He would have done all of it. But he would also have suffered. Suffered the grief, the anguish. Endured the struggle of holding his team together through the loss. Lived with the agony of telling his family, and standing at his graveside. Mac had cared for Angell, and mourned her, but...he and Mac been friends for years. Almost a decade. They were practically family. He knew, without really even thinking about it, the pain his death would have caused Mac. How much it would have hurt him, to be investigating his best friend's murder. Worse even, than Aiden's, and he had seen what that had done to his friend. The helpless, furious grief that had driven him, and his department. The same terrible emotion that had driven him after Angell's death and the bar shooting. The kind of pain that gave the CSI sleepless nights, and nightmare memories. And he could have driven Mac to it again.

The click of the door startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Terrence sliding into the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. “Mac?”

“Left the building.” The CI nodded.

He bit his lip. “Is he safe?”

Terrence shrugged. “Safe out of the building? yeah. Out of the neighborhood, who knows? But that's one slick dude. Bet he'll make it okay.” Another shrug. “Don't want him here, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to tangle with him.” The other man gave him a nod. “You two solved your issues?”

He frowned, thinking back. “No. But we will.” And he would. He knew that. Because, after he'd thought about it, he couldn't subject Mac to this again.

Terrence nodded. He glanced back at the door. “Dude must really care about you, to come down here like that. Takes some serious stones, a guy like him running into this neighborhood.”

A small grin crossed his face. “Mac's got stones for sure. Nobody's got more.” He rose. “It's been fun Terrence, but I got places to be, and I'm betting you don't need more trouble with your boys.”

“I don't.” Terrence shrugged. “You did me a favor, so I don't mind, but it'll be nice seeing your back as you leave.”

“I bet. So how do I get out, without getting jumped again?”

“Back door's down the hall.” Terrence moved, picked up a bloody hoodie and threw it at him. “Put this on. Make you less obvious.” He started to refuse, but the other man shook his head. “Come on, Flack, already has your blood on it. I don't need the laundry, or the hassle. And you don't need anyone seeing that white face of yours and markin' you as a target. I can't save your ass all the time.”

He nodded, put it on, and listened as Terrence gave him directions for the best way out of the neighborhood, his wallet, and just enough cash to catch a cab back to the decent side of town. Then they exchanged a last thank you and handshake, and he left.

An hour later saw him home, tossing the sweatshirt into the laundry. He moved, went to look in the mirror, and grimaced. He needed a shower, a shave, and some new clothing. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. And after that...he had a call he needed to make.

Several hours later, he was cleaned up, and he'd taken the time to stop by his local church. A few minutes with his priest had left him feeling...not better, perhaps, but relieved, to have finally gotten everything into the open. Which left only one thing to do. One person he still had to make it right with.

He called ahead, because he knew Mac was still involved in a murder investigation. If the voice that answered him was a little cooler than usual, it was only to be expected. But Mac still told him to come on in, so he did.

He stepped into the office, looking at his friend. Still wearing the same suit, no signs of the struggle they'd had. The lean face was guarded, but not unfriendly, as he invited him into the office. He couldn't say anything, at first, looking into that face.

Mac nodded. “I got your message. You wanted to talk?”

_There's_ _something_ _on_ _your_ _mind._ _I_ _can_ _tell._ _What_ _is_ _it?_ _You_ _know...I'll_ _listen._ _Even_ _after_ _everything._

He swallowed. “Actually...I wanted to apologize.” He caught the flash of confusion, of surprise, in that gaze.

_I_ _want_ _to_ _apologize._ _For_ _everything._ _For_ _what_ _I_ _did_ _to_ _you._ _I_ _know_ _I_ _hurt_ _you._ _I_ _know_ _I_ _betrayed_ _your_ _trust_ _in_ _me_ _as_ _a_ _friend_ _and_ _a_ _colleague._ _I_ _know_ _I_ _put_ _your_ _life_ _in_ _danger._ _I_ _know,_ _now,_ _what_ _I_ _nearly_ _did_ _to_ _you,_ _when_ _I_ _let_ _my_ _carelessness_ _get_ _the_ _better_ _of_ _me._ _When_ _I_ _let_ _myself_ _get_ _jumped_ _on_ _that_ _train._

But there wasn't an easy way to speak those words. He swallowed again. “These last couple months, I've been...I've been messed up. And you...you've shown me a hell of a lot of patience and support. You didn't have to.”

_I_ _screwed_ _up._ _I_ _lost_ _my_ _head,_ _and_ _you_ _were_ _right_ _there_ _beside_ _me._ _Even_ _when_ _I_ _fell_ _off_ _the_ _wagon._ _But,_ _you_ _were_ _grieving_ _too._ _You_ _were_ _hurt._ _And_ _you_ _had_ _a_ _job_ _to_ _do._ _You_ _could_ _have_ _left_ _me_ _alone,_ _like_ _most_ _of_ _the_ _department_ _did._ _You_ _could_ _have_ _tried_ _to_ _knock_ _sense_ _into_ _me,_ _slapped_ _me_ _out_ _of_ _it._ _But_ _you_ _didn't,_ _and_ _even_ _when_ _I_ _did_ _things_ _you_ _had_ _to_ _question,_ _like_ _joining_ _the_ _investigation_ _into_ _Angell's_ _death...you_ _let_ _me._ _And_ _you_ _had_ _my_ _back,_ _the_ _whole_ _way._ _You_ _should_ _have_ _reported_ _me_ _AWOL,_ _but_ _I_ _already_ _know_ _from_ _the_ _chief_ _that_ _you_ _covered_ _for_ _me,_ _that_ _you_ _called_ _in_ _my_ _'sick_ _day'._ _Saved_ _my_ _ass_ _and_ _my_ _job._

He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Thank you. I'm sorry.”

_Thank_ _you_ _for_ _watching_ _over_ _me._ _I'm_ _sorry_ _I_ _added_ _to_ _your_ _burden,_ _especially_ _when_ _you_ _have_ _so_ _much_ _to_ _do._ _I'm_ _sorry_ _I_ _made_ _you_ _worry._ _I'm_ _sorry_ _I_ _betrayed_ _you,_ _even_ _if_ _I_ _didn't_ _mean_ _to._ _I'm_ _sorry_ _I_ _caused_ _you_ _pain._

A long moment, then Mac nodded. “Everyone mourns differently, Don. I know a lot of your...behaviors, had to do with Angell's death.”

_I_ _know_ _you're_ _grieving,_ _and_ _I_ _understand._ _I_ _do._ _It's_ _okay._ _I_ _forgive_ _you,_ _for_ _that._ _I_ _know_ _you_ _aren't_ _like_ _me._ _I_ _bury_ _myself_ _in_ _work,_ _or_ _my_ _guitar._ _It's_ _not_ _your_ _way._ _I_ _understand_ _that._ _I_ _forgive_ _you._

The look in the eyes changed, ever so slightly, as Mac came around the desk. “But there's also been something else.” He held up a hand, his movement revealing the gold shield still on his hip. “I don't need to hear about it. I just need to know that you've dealt with it, and it's done.”

_Are_ _you_ _going_ _to_ _be_ _okay?_ _That's_ _all_ _I_ _need_ _to_ _know._ _I_ _don't_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _confess_ _and_ _get_ _yourself_ _in_ _trouble._ _Just_ _tell_ _me_ _you're_ _okay._ _That_ _you've_ _got_ _a_ _handle_ _on_ _it._ _Tell_ _me_ _that_ _you're_ _safe_ _now,_ _that_ _I_ _won't_ _turn_ _around_ _and_ _find_ _you_ _drinking_ _yourself_ _stupid_ _again,_ _or_ _in_ _trouble_ _again._ _I_ _don't_ _know_ _what_ _you_ _did,_ _and_ _I_ _don't_ _care._ _I_ _just_ _want_ _to_ _know_ _you'll_ _be_ _all_ _right._

He held his best friend's gaze, seeing the concern and the compassion there. “I crossed the line, Mac. And I'll live with that. But it will never happen again.”

_I_ _crossed_ _a_ _lot_ _of_ _lines._ _But_ _now,_ _I_ _understand._ _Shooting_ _Simon_ _Kaine_ _will_ _rest_ _on_ _my_ _conscience_ _forever._ _But...not_ _as_ _much_ _as_ _seeing_ _that_ _look_ _in_ _your_ _eyes._ _Not_ _as_ _much_ _as_ _the_ _line_ _I_ _crossed_ _against_ _you,_ _when_ _you_ _had_ _to_ _come_ _save_ _me_ _from_ _my_ _own_ _stupidity._ _This_ _won't_ _happen_ _again._ _Because_ _I_ _won't_ _do_ _anything_ _that_ _can_ _put_ _me_ _back_ _in_ _the_ _dumps._ _And_ _because_ _I_ _don't_ _want_ _to_ _see_ _that_ _look_ _in_ _your_ _face_ _ever_ _again_ _for_ _me._ _I_ _may_ _be_ _a_ _jerk,_ _but_ _I_ _will_ _never,_ _ever,_ _p_ _ut_ _that_ _look_ _of_ _pain_ _and_ _fear_ _and_ _anger_ _in_ _your_ _eyes_ _again,_ _not_ _if_ _I_ _can_ _help_ _it._

There was a slight softening of the eyes, and he knew Mac, like him, was reading between the lines, the unspoken words that flowed between them, the communication that came from years of knowing each other.

He spoke softly. “What's most important to me now, is that I re-earn your trust.”

_I_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _know_ _I_ _have_ _your_ _back._ _That_ _I'm_ _beside_ _you._ _That_ _you_ _can_ _chase_ _the_ _killer_ _without_ _fear,_ _cause_ _I'll_ _be_ _with_ _you,_ _to_ _protect_ _you._ _I_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _know_ _it's_ _okay._ _I've_ _got_ _your_ _back._ _And_ _nothing's_ _going_ _to_ _hold_ _me_ _back_ _this_ _time._ _I_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _believe_ _that,_ _and_ _I'll_ _do_ _whatever_ _it_ _takes,_ _to_ _prove_ _that_ _to_ _you._

Mac watched him for a long moment, and then the last of the darkness, the guarded expression, fell away from his eyes. The eyes warmed, kind and strong, filled with the warmth of friendship, and the trust of long association. Then Mac held out a hand.

_I_ _know._ _It's_ _okay._ _You've_ _got_ _nothing_ _to_ _prove,_ _now._ _I_ _trust_ _you._ _I_ _know_ _you've_ _got_ _my_ _back,_ _this_ _time._ _That_ _everything's_ _okay._

He took Mac's hand, and in that instant, the last piece snapped into place.

He'd always feel a little guilt at what he'd done. But Mac was there, and they were still partners. And whatever else happened, that was all he needed to know. All he'd ever really needed, to make things right with his world.

The tiniest of smiles creased the stern face. “Let's go. We've got a lead on our Compass Killer.”

_I've_ _got_ _a_ _murderer_ _to_ _catch._ _You're_ _coming,_ _right?_

His own smile felt wonderful. “Lead the way.”

_Let's_ _go._ _I'm_ _right_ _behind_ _you._

**Author's Note:**

> Season 6 Episode 8. It just felt like there was so much subtext in this episode. I just wanted to explore all the things that could be conveyed without words.


End file.
